


The Worst Thing

by nothingwithoutyouxo



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Party Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwithoutyouxo/pseuds/nothingwithoutyouxo
Summary: “Seven Minutes in Heavennnnnnnnnnn!” Bobby's voice rang out across the room.Martha snorted, taking a longer sip from the cup in her hand. "Same shit, different name," she said.Ilse grabbed onto Melchior's arm. "You are fuckingplaying!"
Relationships: Melchior Gabor & Ilse Neumann, Melchior Gabor & Martha Bessell, Melchior Gabor/Hanschen Rilow, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	The Worst Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Would y'all believe me if I said this started as a joke? (I've essentially written it before but for a different paiting). Now it's the longest thing I've written for this fandom since 2017 and before you ask I do Not know how I feel about that. Apparently this is what happens when my internet drops for two days and I have next to nothing to do. Much love to you all.

“You are  _ the best  _ friend anyone could ask for,” Ilse smiled, as she all but threw herself into Melchior’s passenger seat. It was late, and she’d had to sneak out her bedroom window and down the side of her house as quietly as she could, but it was going to be worth it. She’d texted him earlier about needing a ride to a party. Wendla would be there too and god knew she could only see her girlfriend when no one would be paying attention to them. It was one of the more annoying side effects of growing up in a relatively small town.

“Everyday I get closer to being your beard,” he teased, laughing as she slapped him in the shoulder in response.

“Shut up. I was going to hug you, but I won’t now.”

“Brutal.”

Ilse glared at him, but it didn’t last long. They were both laughing within a few seconds. “Are you gonna hang around?” she asked.

“The party? Why?”

She shrugged. “Thought it might be nice. You could talk to some people.”

It was her very specific way of saying he needed to get out more. She was right, but he’d never admit it. “Don’t want to clockblock you and Wendla,” he reminded.

“You can hang with us for a little though.”

In all the years that they’d known each other, Melchior still hadn’t uncovered the ability to say no to her, and so he found himself nodding. “Alright, I’ll hang around for a little. You’re gonna need a ride home anyway.”

Ilse reached over and squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”

***

They found Wendla in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the counter with a glass of water and a plate of snacks she’d definitely taken from Bobby’s fridge without asking. She only looked a little guilty about it, and Wendla lit up when the two of them entered. Quickly dumping her plate and glass, she jumped down from the counter and headed straight for them. There was no one else in the room, and Ilse immediately pulled her into a kiss that Melchior looked away from. He wasn’t sure if he regretted coming but he definitely felt out of place, which wasn’t their fault.

“I’m so glad you decided to come!”

It took Melchior too long to realise that Wendla was talking to him now. As soon as he did, she was kind enough to hug him as well. Wendla had a way of grounding  people, of always making them feel included. Melchior guessed it would probably come in handy tonight.

“It took a lot of convincing,” Ilse smirked before Melchior could say anything in response.

Wendla pulled away and looked up at him. “Oh, it’ll be fun. You won’t regret it.”

“Anyone else here?” Ilse asked, as Wendla returned to her side, an arm looping around her waist. 

She nodded, and started listing off names, counting them off her fingers. “I saw Martha and Anna earlier, they’re probably still dancing. Thea and Melitta are on  their way. Otto is already on his second drink and Georg is definitely regretting bringing him.”

Ilse laughed. “Of course he is.”

“So, you’ll have people to talk to,” Wendla smiled, aiming that at Melchior. “Oh, also, Hanschen’s here.”

The last name came with just the hint of a grimace. Melchior couldn’t help but roll his eyes in response.

“I’m going home,” he said.

Ilse linked her arm through his as if to hold him there. “Oh, come  _ on _ .”

“Fine, but if he talks to me, I’m leaving.”

She didn’t argue with that, just gave a nod and let him go again.

“What happened between you two again?” Wendla asked.

Melchior didn’t really have an answer for her. He’d never gotten along with Hanschen, not really, even when they were kids and ran in the same circles. Maybe it was the fact that they were truly equals, always fighting for the top spot in every class they had together. They had just always seen each other as competition. “It’s complicated,” he said.

Wendla looked to Ilse next, who just shrugged.

“It’s just always been like this,” she explained.

She nodded. “Maybe we should check on Otto.”

***

Melchior didn’t hate parties by principal, they just weren’t his usual scene. His friends made sure they stayed in his orbit, a definite attempt at making him feel included, but he kept ushering the girls off to dance. Melchior could tell that’s why they were really here, what they really wanted, and seeing them happy was what mattered. 

After a while, he managed to convince Ilse and Wendla to split off from him and spend their time together as they’d intended. Wendla gave him another hug before they did so. Then he was just left with the nagging suspicion that he needed to keep an eye on Otto and Georg, even though he knew they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. As soon as Otto realised he’d drunk far too much far too quickly, he started weaning himself onto water and after the two got a few games of beer bong in they seemed to be set for the night. Melchior couldn’t blame them.

Mostly, he hung around Martha, the two of them leaning against walls with red cups in their hands that they scarcely drank from. Whenever Melchior mentioned that he didn’t want to keep her, she said that she’d danced just about enough already. And that she knew he needed company. He hadn’t realised that just by being there, he was kind of a burden for them all.

“It’s good you’re here, you know,” she said at one point, taking a careful sip from her cup. “It’s nice to have everyone together, even if it’s just for one of Bobby’s shitty parties.”

Melchior glanced around the room, taking in the sheer amount of people weaving between each other, the loud music, the drinks everywhere. “If this is a shitty party then what’s a good one like?” he asked, turning back to face Martha.

She smiled. “A good one has far less people. There’s a lot of people here I don’t recognise which means he’s invited the next, like, two towns over. My guess is he’s probably going to cut the music for a game soon.”

“What kind of game?”

“It’s usually ‘Spin the Bottle’ or something.”

Melchior had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Martha laughed next to him. “I know. You’d think he’d be passed that by now, but Bobby likes drama.”

As if to prove her point, the music came to a halting stop. The sudden silence sent a shock wave through the packed room, everyone freezing in place.

“We’re switching it up tonight!” Bobby’s voice called.

Melchior couldn’t even see where he was.

“Sound system,” Martha muttered next to him, as if reading his mind. “He uses a mic so it projects like this is tech week or something.”

It might not have been a horrible idea.

“Seven Minutes in Heavennnnnnnnnnn!”

Ah, but that definitely was.

Martha snorted next to him, taking a longer sip from her cup. “Same shit, different name.”

After a cheer within the room, the music started up again and everything fell steadily back into place.

“So, are you playing?” Melchior asked.

She shrugged. “If I wanted to kiss someone, I wouldn’t need to be thrown into a closet with them.”

“Wait what?”

Martha looked up at him, her eyebrows knotting together. “Have you never played –“ she didn’t need to finish the question, Melchior was already shaking his head.  “Right, so we need to have a movie night or something because I can’t believe you don’t know this,” she teased, nudging him gently with her elbow.

He held his free hand up in surrender. “I sincerely apologise.”

“You are fucking  _ playing _ !”

The two of them looked up as Ilse came to a stop next to them, Wendla beaming at her side, their hands linked together. Melchior could tell that she’d had a few drinks, her eyes were far brighter and she seemed to be even more excited than usual. It took him far too long to realise Ilse was talking to him.

“What?”

Wendla laughed. “She said you’re playing Seven Minutes.”

Ilse nodded to confirm her words. “I’ve already told Bobby you’re here. He’s gonna do the rest.”

So, hearing that was just a little horrifying. Melchior wouldn’t trust Bobby with anything, especially when he didn’t know what it entailed. He turned to Martha again. “I need a translation,” he said.

Martha smiled faintly, a hand moving as if to set up her words before she lay them out. “Bobby’s rules are slightly different anyway but the way it works is either you nominate yourself, or you get nominated, like Ilse nominated you. Then Bobby picks someone else who’s nominated and the two of you get thrown in a closet together. He thinks it’s fair that way or something.”

Yeah, that didn’t make any sense to him at all. He could tell by the look on Martha’s face that she knew.

“You’re not claustrophobic, right?”

“Not currently.”

“Good. So, you and that person spend 7 minutes alone in the closet and the idea is you get to do whatever within those seven minutes.”

Oh. Now he got it. “Right,” he muttered, drawing out the word, his eyes falling to the floor.

Over the music he managed to make out the sound of Wendla’s giggle, and all it did was make him suddenly nervous.

“I wouldn’t trust Bobby with shit,” he said.

Ilse grabbed his arm to get his attention. “You  _ need  _ this.”

“I really don’t.” He looked to Martha as if she would be a voice of reason, but she just shrugged.

“Nominations are no take backs,” she explained.

“Like elementary school.”

She smirked, quickly hiding it behind her cup. “Bobby is a simple person.”

Melchior couldn’t help but agree with that.

***

It didn’t take Bobby long to come and find him. Melchior stayed with the three girls, and soon enough he heard someone calling his name within the room. 

“Here, he comes,” Martha muttered next to him.

“Melchior, there you are!” A mostly sweaty mess of a person came to stand in front of him. “You’re coming with me,” Bobby said, before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward.

“Watch it,” Melchior muttered, snatching his arm out of Bobby’s grip.

“Whatever, just follow me.”

“Have fun, I love you!” Ilse called after him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Melchior locked eyes with Martha and Wendla, and the three of them shared a laugh before Melchior followed Bobby out of the room.

“I’ve never seen you at one of these before,” Bobby muttered, trying to make conversation. “I was a little surprised when Ilse nominated you. I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I don’t come to these,” he replied.

“Oh, first time, aye?” There was something in Bobby’s tone that put him on edge. “That just makes me feel even better about my choice.”

Melchior swallowed. “What choice?”

“You’ll see.”

Part of Melchior thought that maybe he should have asked Martha to come with him just for the moral support. He wasn’t a nervous person but there was something about this that gave him a bad feeling. That was confirmed when Bobby called out someone’s name.

“Rilow! Let’s go!”

_ Of course it was fucking Hanschen _ . He couldn’t even blame Ilse for this since she didn’t control who was picked.

“Fuck you,” he said, aiming it at Bobby.

He just laughed. “Oh, you’ll thank me in ten minutes. Relax.”

Melchior really doubted that.

Hanschen approached them, and when he noticed Melchior next to Bobby his lips pulled into a smirk. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Melchior shrugged. “Making a mistake.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else.

***

“You know the drill,” Bobby explained. “You’ve got seven minutes. I’m keeping track. Any weird shit I wanna hear about it.”

It was moments like this that reminded Melchior just how scummy Bobby could be. It was usually something he kept under wraps, but sometimes it managed to shine through. As the door closed behind him, all Melchior could think was that he was glad he wasn’t scared of the dark. All sounds of the party were muffled from here, but everything inside felt far too close, even with space between them.

“I  _ am _ genuinely surprised to see you here,” Hanschen said, his tone light enough to make this seem almost normal.

Except for the fact that it wasn’t. “You better not touch me,” he muttered, as if it were a threat.

“You don’t want me to then I won’t. It’s that easy.”

Well, that was considerate. He wasn’t sure why he expected anything else. It was far too quiet in here, the seconds passing too slowly. Melchior knew he was going to have to at least  _ talk  _ to Hanschen just to pass the time.

“Why are you here anyway?” Hanschen asked, and it was just enough to fill the silence.

“Ilse needed a ride.”

“That’s it?”

“She had someone to see.”

“Yeah, Wendla. It’s not really a secret,” Hanschen laughed.

“It is to her parents.”

He hummed in understanding.

Melchior was trying to think of something else to say. He hadn’t had a polite conversation with Hanschen in years, it didn’t quite sit right. “What do you usually do in here anyway?” he asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Who I’m with. On my mood. I’ve done a lot in here.”

His brow furrowed, there was a lot to unpack there and most of it seemed to be stuff he didn’t want to know. “You get picked a lot?”

He heard Hanschen shrug in the dark. “Bobby likes to throw me in here for fun. It’s whatever.”

Usually, hearing something like that would worry him, but Hanschen’s tone was light enough that Melchior could brush it off. He thought it over for a moment. Maybe what happened in the closet stayed in here. Did that matter? Why was he considering this in the first place?

“I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to kiss you or something,” he found himself saying, though he had no idea why.

Hanschen snorted. “Kind of you.”

“If you’re going to be a dick then forget I offered.”

“Relax, Melchior, I just don’t know how to talk to you.”

Yeah. Melchior had no idea either. “Do people find out about what happens in here?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He wasn’t sure if he trusted that entirely, this definitely seemed like something that people would fawn over. Wasn’t that the point of games like this anyway? Martha had mentioned that Bobby just liked the drama. Melchior took a deep breath.  _ Oh, screw it. _

“You don’t do this very often do you?” Hanschen sounded genuinely curious, it threw Melchior off guard.

“Not usually, no,” he admitted.

“I won’t bite then.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just teasing you.”

Melchior sat with that for a moment, and then decided that he didn’t really care. He’d made up his mind somehow. He’d committed to the idea of this without realising it. Now he just had to figure out how to do this. Just as he was about to ask Hanschen if he knew how long they’d been in here, Bobby’s voice called out, “Four minutes left!”

“Time always passes slower in here,” Hanschen muttered, as if to himself.

He wasn’t sure if that worked in his favour or not. “Ok, where are you?” Melchior asked. There wasn’t a single ray of light in here, so he was flying completely blind.

There was a shuffling sound as Hanschen brought himself closer until their knees were pressed together. “You’re not obligated to do anything, you know,” he reminded, sounding surprised.

Melchior shrugged. “I think Ilse would kill me if I didn’t.”

Hanschen paused for a moment before saying, “Of course she’s the one that nominated you.”

Somehow, he could tell that Hanschen was smiling, and Melchior couldn’t help but smile too. Then he was reaching out towards him to grab the front of his shirt. Melchior was moving slower than he expected himself to, still not quite sure how to do this with Hanschen of all people. Once he had a grip on Hanschen’s collar that seemed to make it easier, and with another deep breath Melchior closed the remaining space between them and pressed their lips together. Hanschen matched him, as if he’d been waiting for queues. Melchior involuntarily tugged the collar of Hanschen’s shirt again, trying to pull him closer. 

“You trying to undress me?” Hanschen smirked, barely pulling away to ask.

“What? No.”

“Pity,” he muttered.

Melchior felt a chill go up his spine, and he wondered if that was caused by the statement alone or the fact that Hanschen was smiling now. Either way, it was something that had never happened before. They paused for a moment, both suspended in whatever this was, and then Hanschen cupped Melchior’s neck and brought him into another kiss. That’s when Melchior realised that there was something here, something familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Something different, or possibly even overwhelming. Something that he almost wanted himself to get lost in. He shifted, moving a hand into Hanschen’s hair and deepening the kiss. Within seconds they heard Bobby’s voice again. 

“One minute!”

Melchior startled and pulled away, the shock catching up to him all at once. He’d forgotten about the time limit, and couldn’t quite shake the feeling of  _ disappointment _ at being reminded of it.

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” Hanschen said, and Melchior wondered if he was imagining just how his tone was confused and intrigued all at once.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. You’re careful.”

That didn’t make sense either, but Melchior didn’t have the time to push. “I don’t do this a lot,” he reminded.

Hanschen shook his head. “I couldn’t tell.”

He wasn’t sure how to process any of this, or what to say next. The air felt heavy and he was steadily realising that he couldn’t quite breathe.

“I can pull away so Bobby doesn’t find us like this.”

Or he could have, if Melchior wasn’t still holding onto the front of Hanschen’s shirt. He let go immediately, and Hanschen laughed. 

“Like I said, I won’t tell,” he muttered.

Melchior hadn’t thought about that yet. He hadn’t thought about what happened when he was thrown back into the real world. Hanschen pulled away just before  Bobby forced the door open.

“Welcome back,” he smirked, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Go fuck yourself, Maler,” Hanschen replied, and then quickly climbed out.

As the sound of the party flooded his ears, and the light faded back into his vision, Melchior couldn’t help the wave of confusion. Something felt different now, and he kind of hated it. He needed to find Martha.

***

The more Melchior sat with it, the more he realised this wasn’t something he was going to get over too quickly, and he knew why. It wasn’t something he’d felt before, at least not in the way that he had at the party. He went over it again and again in his mind, eliminating factors and trying to figure out why that was. Maybe it was the dark, the confined space, the time limit. Each time he came up with an answer, and each time it was the same. It was Hanschen that had caused it, and Melchior didn’t know how he was going to live with that.

Adding to the list of unusual things, he’d decided to confide this in Martha instead of Ilse. Even though both girls had been there that night, Martha was the one who’d truly seen him after. Martha was the one that knew how much it had hit him. She was the only one he could trust with this. At least for now.

“What if you talked to him about it?” she asked.

The two of them were in Melchior’s room, a pile of homework spread between them on the bed that they were slowly making their way through. Or, they would be if either of them could focus on it.

“I don’t know what I’d say,” he admitted. Of course it was something that had crossed his mind, and Melchior had never been afraid of confrontation, but this time it was different. This time the consequences truly mattered.

She seemed to think about that, her pen pressed against her chin. “Ok, me neither,” she settled on. “You two don’t even talk.”

“Exactly.”

“What did it feel like?”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think, but couldn’t come up with an answer. Melchior just shrugged instead. “Just different.”

“Different out of shock or?”

If it was the shock or the spontaneity, he’d be able to eliminate them in his calculations and see a change, but he didn’t. He shrugged again.

“Sparks?” Martha asked, even if she already knew the answer.

Melchior tossed the script he was holding down on the bed, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m mad about it,” he muttered.

She laughed. “Is Hanschen that bad?”

“I guess the point is he’s not really bad at all.”

Martha tapped her chin with her pen again, and then tapped him to get his attention. “Do you plan on staying angry?”

“I’ve tried. It doesn’t stick.”

She smiled. “Then maybe talking to him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Melchior sighed. “Maybe his reaction would be.”

***

Even so, Melchior tried to take Martha’s advice. It had taken her a while, but she’d managed to convince him that no matter what reaction Hanschen had, it was better to be honest. He wasn’t usually in the business of being honest with people he couldn’t stand, but that seemed subject to change, and he wasn’t quite sure if he could count Hanschen as that anymore. That might have been the worst part of this, having his world view shifted just slightly off-axis.

Melchior managed to corner Hanschen in the parking lot after school, leaving this to the last possible minute of the day in the hopes that he’d be able to figure out what he needed to say. He still hadn’t but he was going to try. To help convince himself this was a good idea he reminded himself that the parking lot was essentially the most  _ sparse  _ area on campus, which meant there was almost zero chance of someone overhearing them. Melchior still wasn’t sure how he felt about anyone else knowing what happened, even if most (if not all) of the school had been at the party anyway. 

“Hey,” he muttered, and felt stupid for being so casual, but had no idea what how else to approach this.

Hanschen stopped in place, doing nothing to hide the shock of being spoken to by Melchior specifically. “Hey,” he replied.

Melchior took a deep breath, deciding against anymore small talk and getting straight to the point, “I need to ask you something.”

His brow furrowed, and he hesitated before answering. “Ok?”

“The night of the party,” he started, “Did that – did you feel anything? In the stupid closet?” The question itself made him cringe, the implications even more so. God, he hated being vulnerable. 

The first thing Hanschen did was glance around them, but there wasn’t anyone in ear shot. “No? Why?”

Whatever hope had been burning in him fizzled out completely, and he suddenly felt incredibly drained.

“Did you?”

When Melchior looked up again, he noticed that Hanschen’s expression had softened into confusion, and he hated that he’d asked. Hated that he’d somehow baffled Hanschen by allowing him to think that a stupid kiss in pitch darkness mattered. “Of course not,” he said, and thought that Hanschen didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if that was the truth.

When Hanschen didn’t say anything else, Melchior turned on his heel and left.

***

“Nothing?” Martha asked. She was pacing back and forth across the floor, clearly distressed that she’d convinced Melchior to shoot his shot only to have it miss completely.

“Apparently.” He didn’t want to sound bitter, especially since this wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t help it. 

She sat down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “Melchi, I’m sorry,” she said.

Melchior shrugged. “It’s not important.” He had no idea why he’d let himself believe it was.

Martha didn’t bite. “You know I can tell that it is.”

He sighed, resting his hand against hers. “Maybe if I go to Bobby’s next party, Ilse will nominate me again and I’ll get to feel it for seven more minutes.” He didn’t  realise how sad that sounded until after he said it, and he accepted the hug that Martha offered him.

***

“You what?”

Telling Ilse seemed to be his next best option. She knew practically everything else that had ever happened to him, there was no reason she couldn’t know about this. It’s not like he could hide it from her anyway.

Melchior shrugged. “It didn’t mean anything to him, so we don’t ever have to talk about this again,” he said. “I’m just giving you an update.”

Ilse shook her head. “How dare he.”

“It’s not his fault,” Melchior smiled faintly, trying to lighten the mood but not quite succeeding.

He could tell just by looking at her that Ilse felt awful. “I was drinking,” she said, “and I missed it.”

“You were there to have a good time, and you did.” He tapped her arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ilse sighed, and rubbed her hands over her eyes for a moment. “So, you coming to Bobby’s next party then?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Melchior nodded anyway. “Is it weird to chase that?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Does Bobby ever pair the same people up twice?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

Ilse regarded him for a moment, and Melchior wondered if he seemed as desperate to her as he did to himself. She smiled, but it mostly translated to a look of sympathy. “It wouldn’t take much to convince Bobby you need a round two,” she explained, “but if it’s going to hurt you more, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

Melchior shook his head. “It’s more closure than anything.”

“Then I’ll guarantee it.”

***

Martha had been right, somehow parties did seem better when there were less people. The music was just as loud, but the rooms weren’t as crowded. It made it easier to move around and, for the moment, it made it easier to avoid Hanschen. Melchior had seen Hanschen when he’d come in, but he’d made sure that Hanschen hadn’t seen him. Currently, he was flanked with Ilse, Wendla, and Martha. Not too long after they got there, Ilse slipped away to commence operation ‘get Bobby to do what they needed’. In the meantime, Melchior had actually let Martha and Wendla drag him out to dance, and maybe his dancing was horrible, but it didn’t matter. He just needed the distraction.

“Bobby’s down,” Ilse said, appearing in their little circle.

Melchior froze up, and the girls quickly dragged him off to a corner. “What did you tell him?” he asked Ilse, lowering his voice so there was no chance of anyone else hearing him.

She shrugged. “That you’re lonely and need action.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, subconsciously crossing his arms over his chest. “Seriously?”

“What?,” she smirked. “You think I was going to tell him what  _ actually  _ happened?”

Melchior wasn’t sure how to thank her. 

Ilse squeezed his arm, which meant that she could tell. “You just have to hang in there for, like, two more hours.”

“It’s absolutely going to drag,” Wendla teased.

Martha offered him the red cup in her hand, but he shook his head. “Probably a good idea,” she smiled.

“I feel kind of gross anyway,” he muttered.

Ilse nodded. “Hanschen does that to you.”

“How would you know?”

The three girls laughed, and Melchior was almost too afraid to ask what was funny.

***

“If you’re going to keep getting nominated, I’m going to have to actually start inviting you to these,” Bobby was saying as he led Melchior across the room.

“If you cared about who you actually invited half these people wouldn’t even be here,” he replied.

He laughed. “Fair point. Rilow! Come on!”

“Again? Really?” Hanschen asked, barely looking at Melchior as he approached them, and maybe that made Melchior feel worse. He tried to brush the feeling off.

Bobby patted his back three times. “Special circumstances,” he explained.

He rolled his eyes, shrugging Bobby’s hand off. “Sure. Whatever.”

***

Melchior couldn’t shake off the fact that this was  _ weird _ . There was no other way that he could describe it. As Bobby shut the door behind the two of them, he felt weird, lost and confused, specifically out of place in a way that he hadn’t last time. Melchior felt strained, like the air around them held weight, and he wondered if claustrophobia was something he’d managed to contract.

“Bobby doesn’t usually give me the same person twice,” Hanschen muttered. “I guess that means he thinks we have unfinished business.”

Melchior didn’t say anything in response, didn’t even have the headspace to process it, he was too busy going over his own words in his mind, trying to make them make sense. Trying to build up courage.

“Melchi –“

“I lied,” Melchior said, cutting him off. “I know you said it was nothing and that’s ok, but it wasn’t for me and I need you to know that. I guess you can do whatever  you want with the knowledge, but I felt something.”

For a moment, the space was too still, too quiet. Hanschen sucked in a breath across from him, as if he was going to say something, but he mustn’t have been able to find the words. Melchior thought he hated the silence the most, hated the waited, hated that regret that was creeping up on him. Why did he do this again? Why did being  _ honest  _ matter at a time like this? In a moment like this when all he was going to have was complete darkness and strained silence for six more minutes. 

Then all at once, Hanschen was moving. He grabbed onto Melchior and closed the space between them. Whatever reaction Melchior had been expecting, if anything at all, it wasn’t for Hanschen to lean in and kiss him, gentle and steady. Slow, as if Hanschen was trying to tell him something and Melchior couldn’t help the spark of hope that resettled within him. More than that, he hadn’t expected the way he felt about it, so much stronger than before. He was so lightheaded that he was almost grateful when Hanschen pulled away again, just enough to speak.

“It wasn’t nothing,” he said, sounding breathless in a way Melchior had never heard before. “I’m sorry I made you think that. Whatever it was that you felt, it wasn’t just you.”

_ Like sparks _ ? Just like Martha had said. It was so cheesy he wanted to push the thought away, he was almost embarrassed by it. 

“Hm?”

_ Shit did he really say it out loud?  _ “What you felt?” he recovered, might as well own up to it now. 

Hanschen’s hand trailed across Melchior’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Melchior had to suppress another chill. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he knew he needed to do something. The first thing that came to mind was that he wanted, perhaps even needed, to kiss Hanschen again. So he did, not stopping this time until he was struggling for breath and Hanschen was almost laughing at him because of it. As Hanschen pressed his forehead against his, Melchior couldn’t help but think that this was far too much all at once.

“Is that your heart racing or mine?” Hanschen asked, his voice still light with laughter. 

Considering Melchior could barely hear passed his own pulse he had an answer. “Mine, probably.”

He pressed a hand to Melchior’s chest, and he froze immediately under the touch. This time he had to laugh. “Here,” he muttered, taking one of Melchior’s hands and pressing it over his heart in turn. “Not just you.”

It was a reassurance he hadn’t known he needed. Just the fact that Hanschen could feel this too was enough to make him almost lose his mind, if he hadn’t already. “What do we do now?” he asked, Hanschen’s heart skipped a beat and Melchior couldn’t help but wonder if (and more importantly  _ how _ ) he’d managed to cause it. The sheer intimacy forced him to drop his hand. 

Hanschen did the same, resting it against Melchior’s hip instead, as if he still needed his hands on him somehow. “Coffee? Tomorrow?”

“Where?”

“My house?”

Melchior smirked. “What are we gonna watch a movie or something?”

“If we can’t do that and survive I’m not sure this will work out,” he teased. “My parents won’t be home if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He trailed his fingers along the collar of Hanschen’s shirt. Maybe that was something he was worried about, somewhere in his mind. God knew what would happen if his dad found out. 

“Melchior?”

He startled. “Sorry.”

“I always used to wonder what was on your mind.”

Melchior wished he could see, he wondered if Hanschen’s expression matched the softness of his voice. “Really?”

“Knowing you wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he shrugged.

He pressed his hand to Hanschen’s chest again, checking if his heart rate was still as unsteady as his own. Did this make him nervous too?

Hanschen took his hand and gently pried it away, just holding it instead. 

Melchior’s head was definitely spinning. “Your house,” he muttered. “Tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“One minute left!” the sound of Bobby’s voice startled both of them, and they laughed together.

“You know next time we do this it doesn’t have to be in pitch darkness,” Hanschen teased.

“You’d still want to then?” Melchior cringed as soon as the question left him, but Hanschen didn’t seem to care. 

He leaned in and kissed Melchior, quickly. “Yes,” he said. “Now you should probably get off me before Bobby opens the door.”

“You embarrassed by me?”

“Please. I’m protecting your dignity.”

Melchior laughed and pulled away. “Fine.”

***

Hanschen had tapped his shoulder before he disappeared further into the room, throwing insults back and forth with Bobby, and somehow that alone was what Melchior needed to survive until the next day. He shoved his hands into his pockets, carefully making his way through the room and back towards his friends in a daze. He was vaguely aware that he was smiling, and that was only confirmed by the shit-eating grins he received as the three girls rushed over to him. 

“Your hair’s messed up,” Ilse smirked, reaching up to fix it for him. “What happened in there?”

“I think I have a date tomorrow?” he muttered, and wasn’t prepared for the little squeal Wendla gave in response.

Ilse nodded in approval, which was something he didn’t think Hanschen would get so easily. 

Wendla quickly threw her arms around him, and Melchior barely had a chance to process it and hug her back. “I’m so happy for you!” she said into his shoulder, before quickly pulling away again.

“I don’t know if I’d say  _ happy _ ,” Ilse laughed. “It  _ is  _ Hanschen we’re talking about.”  _ There  _ it is.

Martha nudged her with her elbow, unable to stop herself from smirking. “Oh shut up, let him have this moment.” She handed him a red cup, which Melchior took but didn’t drink from and the four of them moved off to the corner of the room, hiding from most of the people, and standing close enough together that they didn’t have to strain to hear each other over the music.

“So, how was he?” Ilse asked, crossing her arms over her chest, and struggling to fight off another grin. She was definitely having far too much fun with this. Melchior expected nothing less. 

He rolled his eyes. “I thought you already knew.”

“Maybe so, but I bet he’d be different if it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shoved at him. “It means he likes you, dumbass.”

Hearing that from her somehow more real, and he’d already been battling with just how  _ real  _ it felt. “This is a lot,” he explained. “I’ve never had this before. I don’t know how I feel about it?”

“To be fair, I don’t either.”

He couldn’t fault her for that. 

Martha tapped Ilse’s arm to get her attention. “If Hanschen fucks this up we get to punch him,” she smirked, a wicked glint in her eyes. 

Ilse lit up, pointing a finger at her. “Actually, this is the best idea we’ve ever had.”

Wendla laughed next to her, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. Ilse wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against her side. 

There was something pulling at him, something that was remaining unsaid, but he needed an answer. “What happens if  _ I  _ fuck it up?”

“Depends how much I care about Hanschen at that point. Also depends what you did, you’re not worth hitting on a normal day.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

The four of them looked between each other, and then burst into laughter. 

“Hey,” Ilse muttered, softening again. “I’m happy for you, you know.”

Melchior’s brow furrowed. “Nothing’s happened yet,” he reminded. “I haven’t done anything.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> I truly don't know how serious I am about this. (Also Moritz and Ernst aren't this is 'cause if they were it wouldn't be what it is now).  
> Y'all know where to find me. [[tumblr]](http://www.stranger-awakening.tumblr.com)  
> Until next time!


End file.
